


almost (silence)

by epilogues



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Episode 25: Silence, Friendship, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22096498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epilogues/pseuds/epilogues
Summary: Exploration of Light's feelings before, during, and after the rain/staircase scenes and subsequent events.
Relationships: L & Yagami Light
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	almost (silence)

**Author's Note:**

> this was a rly different fic for me bc i usually don't follow canon this closely, but it was a fun challenge! i didn't put a relationship category bc this can be read as ship or as gen!
> 
> and also yes im aware that it's 2020 but i watched death note for the third time last month and have been sitting on this ever since. i promise i'll go back to homestuck after this. enjoy!!

The task force building is… not quiet, exactly - Light’s footsteps echo on the stairs and rain lashes against the windows - but the sounds feel muffled. This isn’t a new feeling. Light’s thoughts are racing so loudly that sensory input is little more than an afterthought.

L will die soon. Granted, that’s assuming that Rem does as expected, but Light has a habit of being confident in his assumptions. He knows that the sheer adoration Rem holds for Misa, the adoration that bleeds from her eyes and words and actions, will prove him right.

Idly, behind the schemes and anticipation, Light wonders if he’s ever shown an adoration like that. Probably not. There’s not much that he _loves_ , really. He doesn’t love the world. He loves the one he’ll create, of course, but it’s difficult to love something that has yet to exist. He’s not sure how mothers do it. 

“Light? Where are you going?”

Light startles at the voice of his father and at the way its sound lets all of the other noises of the building crash through Light’s mental barrier. The rain pounds like it’s trying to shatter the glass drop by drop. “Just walking,” he says, and he supposes it’s honest enough. He doesn’t really have a specific goal in mind, but he saw L trace this same path earlier and he’s a bit curious to follow. “I’m hoping it’ll clear my head a little, what with everything that’s been going on.”  
  
Soichiro nods, steps forward, and claps Light on the shoulder. “I understand.” 

Light deftly twists away from the contact; he’s not sure if it’s overstimulating or offensive or blasphemous, but it feels _wrong._ “Thanks, Dad. I’m just going to -” He gestures vaguely at the stairs, onward, and Soichiro nods again. 

Light steps past him without another word. The rain removes itself from the foreground of Light’s thoughts, only to be replaced, once more, by L. They’ve been fighting for so long that the idea of L being taken off the battlefield almost feels impossible. (Almost.)

The others will put up a good fight, of course, but once L is gone, they don’t stand a chance. The world will emerge just as Light wants, and then he will learn to love it. It will be amazing. It would be rewarding for L to witness the victory of Kira, of course, through prison bars or something similar, but -

No, what is Light thinking? The proximity of victory must be going to his head. There’s no way that he can let L remain alive. He’s the only rival that’s ever given Light pause, and he’s the only real barrier between the old world and the new. Between evil and justice. His complete removal is the only option. It’s always been the only option.

Light’s footsteps falter for a moment as he passes one of the larger windows alongside the stairs. The city is beautiful like this, the lights of the buildings blurry through the water, the sky and horizon indistinguishable. In the morning, once the rain has passed, everything will be clean. L will be gone. Everything will be clean.

The staircase keeps rising. Light rises with it. Step after step after step takes him to a door labeled “Roof Access.” There have been precious few other doors along the walk, and so it’s little surprise when Light peers through the window in the center of the door and sees L’s silhouette across the roof. 

He’s standing hunched over as he so often does, like he’s trying to make himself smaller or disappear together. He’s almost like the reverse of so many animals, the kind that puff themselves up to appear larger when attacked. Of course, if L is the reverse of those, and Light has created a dichotomy between himself and L, what does that make Light?

Light shakes off that train of thought; it’s leading nowhere. His time will be better spent having a final - and it will be final - conversation with L, so he lifts his hand to the door handle and turns it slowly, slowly. He’s not sure what he’s trying to delay. 

The rain is louder on the roof, but it seems to have lost its aggression here, like it's become a spectator instead of a participant. The backdrop, not the performer, the margins, not the words. Light steps out as far as he can go while still staying under the little shelter the doorway provides.

L doesn’t acknowledge, probably doesn’t even notice, Light’s presence at first. His gaze is fixated on the sky in a nearly perfect imitation of the satellite dish behind him. Maybe he’s sending for help, but it’s too late now. Light’s footsteps ring out across the roof, and L turns his head to look. He says nothing. 

“What are you doing there, Ryuzaki?” Light asks. _Strange way to spend your last bit of time alive._ The strange hesitance he felt earlier seems drowned out by the rain. He’s here, he’s having his last conversation with L, he’s nearly won. It’s almost difficult not to gloat.

L still says nothing, just raises his hand to his ear and leans closer to Light. 

Of course. Light bites back a sigh - he’s nearly won - and repeats, louder, “What are you doing there, Ryuzaki?”

L repeats the same motion, but this time, a small grin dances across his face. It’s annoying, but Light supposes he can let him have this last bit of playfulness. It’s a bit like when the cat lets the mouse run around between its paws one more time before it reaches in.

Regardless, though, Light doesn’t feel like shouting, so he raises a hand to his forehead and steps out into the rain. It’s the kind of rain that drenches you instantly, but near-gods don’t really worry about things like that, of course. Light crosses the roof, walking until he’s definitely within earshot of L, and repeats the question a third time. _Here’s hoping this one’s the charm._ “What are you doing, Ryuzaki?” 

The ‘there’ is dropped. There is no longer a ‘there,’ there is no longer a distinction of location. They are both simply here, now. 

Unsurprisingly, L refuses eye contact. “Well, I’m not doing anything in particular,” he tells the ground - or perhaps his reflection in a puddle; God knows most dying words are selfish anyway - “but… the sound of bells.”

Light allows himself a frown at that. The only sound he hears out on the roof is the rain. “Bells?”

Finally, L turns to look at him. “Yes. The bells have been really noisy today.”

Light follows his distant gaze, but unsurprisingly, no bells make an appearance. “I don’t hear anything,” he says. Is this a game? Is L trying to pull one last thing over on him? Ah, well, not like it matters either way. The clock is ticking.

“Really?” L says. “They’ve been ringing all day and I can’t help but feel curious.”  
  
His voice is quiet, which isn’t unusual, but there’s a flatness to its tone that feels.. unusual. Almost as if he knows how much time is left. Almost as if curiosity is an afterthought in the face of fact.

“Do you suppose it’s a church? A wedding?” L continues. His eyes continue to elude Light’s; they return to the satellite with a kind of sheen that looks not too far off from the eyes of a newly religious man. “Or, perhaps…”  
  
There are still no bells that Light can hear, and if this is a game, it’s going on longer than he wants. “What are you talking about, Ryuzaki?” he snaps. “Don’t say such silly things. Let’s go back.”  
  
L turns to face him, finally, and there’s something that’s so close to hurt, so close to Sayu when Light used to tell her to _get out of my room, I have to study_ , so close to betrayal, that Light almost feels bad for snapping at him. He may be the enemy, but he is, unfortunately, almost a friend. “I’m sorry,” L murmurs. His eyes fall to the ground, back to the puddle reflecting his face. His shoulders pull in - making himself smaller, again, always. “Everything I say is complete nonsense, so please don’t believe any of it."

The rain keeps coming down, filling what would otherwise be a heavy silence. Light tosses around a couple of conversational choices, far too many of which are sincere for his liking. _Don’t say things like that. You’re a genius, give yourself some credit. Are you feeling okay?_

But friend is preceded by almost, so Light just says, “That’s right, Ryuzaki. Most of what you say is nonsense, there would be no end if I took you seriously all the time. I know that the best.”

Well, maybe that last bit wasn’t meant to slip out. It feels a little too close to admitting that he knows L the best - and he does, really. Their entire relationship is built on deceit, but Light isn’t stupid. He knows that L understands him more than anyone has before, and he knows that L knows that he understands L just as well. And Light knows that he’ll miss that, just a bit. 

L gives Light a glance as he says it, like he knows everything that it means, before turning away once more. “Yes, that’s right, Light,” he says. “But it’s true of both of us.”

Light allows himself a furrowed brow at that. “What do you mean?” 

Eye contact, again, suddenly, and it feels almost like the first moment that Light saw the Death Note. He might miss that adrenaline, just a bit, once L’s gone. (Soon, soon.) “Have you ever told the truth at any point in your entire life?” L asks.

For a moment, it’s like the entire world falls silent. Of course. Another test, another accusation, another last-ditch attempt on L’s part to confirm what he already knows he knows, to confirm a secret that will die with him. Light is suddenly reminded of the time that he and L played tennis, the endless back and forth, faster and faster until, of course, Light won. The rain fades back in.

“What are you talking about, Ryuzaki?” Light asks. His tone is carefully light, and he consciously relaxes his posture. No sense in handing the goat over now, even though what L knows isn’t going to be a thing that matters for much longer. “It’s true, I lie once in a while. But how many people spend their entire lives only telling the truth? Humans aren’t perfect, everyone lies. Even so, I’ve been careful not to tell lies that will hurt others. That’s my answer.”

Pencils down, time’s up. The millionth exam passed. It’s all bullshit, of course, but once Light is the only one with this conversation in his memory, he’ll be free to alter it however he likes.

L drops his gaze with a familiar little sniff. “I thought you’d say that.”

Light’s not quite sure what to say to that, so he lets the rain answer for him.

“Let’s go back,” L says. “We’re drenched.”  
  
“Yeah.” Something about Light’s triumphant mood is already dimming. These conversations make him uncomfortable in a way nothing else ever has, but it’s a discomfort he’s almost not sure what he’s going to do without.

*

There is a moment, on the stairs, where Light swears L’s eyes dart to his lips. There is a moment, on the stairs, where Light feels his eyes mirror the action. There is a moment, on the stairs, of eye contact. Light’s bare feet are cold on the stairs. His hand is braced against a towel that’s still damp from L’s hair. His heart is beating fast, faster than usual, faster than Misa has ever made it. He doesn’t know if he feels like Mary Magdalene or Judas; he doesn’t know what it means that being either of those figures will make L feel like Jesus Christ.

“It’s sad,” L says, suddenly.

The sound surprises Light just a bit, and his whole body tenses. There’s no way that L doesn’t notice, not in this proximity. “What is?”

There’s something less than half of a smile on L’s face; it screams knowledge and acceptance. Light can’t take his eyes off of it. 

“We’ll soon be parting ways.”

There is a moment, on the stairs, where Light imagines a future where L is wrong, and then L’s phone rings. The moment shatters. Much later, once Light has taken L's name - once he's slipped into a dead man's skin, a feeling he'll never be able to quantify or qualify, once this moment, on the stairs, has become memory - Light will think of it as a moment where nothing happened. No contact means nothing, really. 

(Light will be wrong.)

There is, of course, contact later. First, the contact of a spoon with the ground, but that doesn’t really mean much in comparison with the contact of L with the ground. The sound is terrible, a dull thump, and the only reason it doesn’t replay in Light’s mind more is that it's half-obscured by the memory of his own shoulder slamming into the floor, L caught in his arms. Light planned his reaction, of course, but he never planned this. 

The moment that L’s eyes drift shut is the best and worst of Light’s life. He is God, now. Kira has won. The almost is dropped from his title - but it falls from L’s too. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!! feedback is always appreciated! <3


End file.
